Destroy Everything You Touch
by Emerin
Summary: Destroy everything you touch. Today. Please destroy me... this way. xx SLASH HarrySeverus xx


Hullo Gentle Readers!

WooT! I finally finished it! Give me lurve and huggles and tacos, for I finally finished my third Snarry ficcy :dances:  
Now, I'm actually pretty damn proud of this one. It took me awhile, required tons of inspiration and putting Ladytron on repeat ( my poor Dad :sweatdrop: ), but its DONE. And it turned out GREAT, if I do say so myself  
Draco makes a brief appearance (cause, really, I GOTTA have Dray in all of my fics, one way or another) and WittyCleverPerceptivebestfriend!Ron graces the pages as well.

I'm totally inlove with this Ron. I really want him to exist outside of this fic...but he always comes across as, well, dumb x.X :huggles Ron: I'm sorry my darling! But atleast I put in some obligatory Harry/Ron-ness, even if its strictly BEST MATES..I had to get my kicks SOMEHOW

ALSO! I have a beautiful painting that goes with this. Check it out!

deviantart dot com slash deviation slash 39317982 (replace the dots and slashes with the actual thing, heh)

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Prologue

The metallic clink of the chains resounded in the dark, empty room. It was almost a melodic sound, so methodical in its steady_ clink...clink...clink!_ The occasional drip of water interrupted the metal's song and it echoed into the darkness, becoming swallowed up by it.

A whimper permeated the otherwise serene silence and he smiled.

"Like that?"

It had been nothing more than a husky whisper, but it cut through the room like a razor. A whimper answered him, followed by a strangled gasp as he did it again. Fingers slipped on the plastic toy's surface, guiding the object further inside. It was forgivingly thin, but riddled with bumps and spikes. He supposed it didn't matter whether it had been thin or enormous, the man would've made the same amount of noise.

Leaning forward, he purred at the black-haired man, watching as his blindfolded head rolled back. Biting down on a bleeding lip and digging his fingers into the shackles round his wrists, the man seemed to be willing himself not to scream as he hung helplessly from the ceiling.

Well, couldn't have that, now could we?

A flick of his fingers and the toy rocked on its own, leaving his hands free to torture happily.

The man jerked forward, his long raven hair swaying against his long neck and broad shoulders, limp with sweat. Running skilled fingers down damp, pale flesh, he coaxed reluctant groans and pained gasps from an overused throat. Urging the toy on, he watched intently as the man's sleek body spasmed back and forth, his hauntingly beautiful face twisted in agonizing pleasure.

Long, callused fingers reached down to slide along the man's bobbing sex, slowly luring him closer to oblivion. His gasps became screams and soon the room was overwhelmed by sound. Wet slapping, muffled sobbing and the ever increasing scrape of metal on stone.

"Don't!"

The man's cries shattered the dark silence as he teetered closer and closer.

"Please!"

He moved his fingers faster, the sharp stench of mold and sex hitting his nose.

"STOP!"

All pleads cracked in that one abused note as streams of thick white cream shot out, covering his strong fingers. "Mine." He breathed, licking a sticky finger and kissing those chapped lips. Rolling forward on the balls of his feet, he brushed aside a curl of sweat-soaked hair and hissed fondly against a marred pale throat, " My Sev--"

-----

Emerald eyes shot open as a gasp escaped into the still room. Drenched in sweat, body throbbing and his sweatpants ultimately ruined, Harry Potter stared up at the familiar red canopy and reasoned it was a good day to die. For nothing short of the apocalypse could explain why he, Gryffindor's Resident Hero, just had an erotic and kinky wet dream about the dreaded Potions Professor, Severus Snape.

- - - - - I X I - - - - -

Chapter One

The morning came far too slowly in Harry's opinion. Haven't been able to get back to sleep for fear of a repeat of last night's horrifying feature, Harry found himself playing chess with himself quietly until Dean's alarm clock went off at 7:30. After showering quickly, not wishing to spend any more time naked than was necessary, he dressed and shook Ron awake. Deciding to wait in the common room while the harassed redhead schlepped about his morning routine, he tried to busy himself with finishing up his transfiguration essay but his deranged mind had other plans. Every moment not devoted specifically to nightingales was overrun by brief flashes from his dream, usually accompanied by a sound or two.

Shuttering as a shiver of sick pleasure crept into his crotch, Harry was of course more than a_ little_ surprised when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, sending him jumping about a foot in the air.

"Holy shite Harry, didn't mean to scare you, " Ron chastened, though the twitch of amusement his lips made was a dead giveaway.

"Y-you didn't scare me. Just...startled, is all, " Harry tried to correct, feeling his heart hammering straight out his chest.

Ron's lips gave in and a smirk quirked the corner of his mouth." Did I now? Heh, sorry mate."

Harry scowled, for lack of a better response, and gathered his things before heading out to breakfast, a sniggering redhead on his heels.

Breakfast was uneventful, if one didn't count when Harry accidentally put his elbow in his porridge when Snape walked in. By the time Potions rolled around at the end of the day, Harry was considerably frazzled. Each time a pause or lull had come in his classes, his mind would inexplicably wander back to his dream and his body would quickly react. It was unnerving, to say the least, seeing as Harry was the least experienced of all his classmates when it came to anything sexual. He'd hardly had use of his libido the past six years, too preoccupied with the geriatric sociopath trying to kill him. Now, all of a sudden, he was thrown into a torrid affair with the Potions Master in his dreams.  
Funny, really, how he hadn't bothered to call it a nightmare. By all standards, it should very well be something nightmarish, but something deep and dark inside Harry said it wasn't and although a Gryffindor, even HE wasn't brave enough to face _that_ particular thought.

"Reckon Snape'll drop dead in the jaunt from the Great Hall to here?" Ron asked, his deep voice filed with wistful hope.

_Not with my luck_, Harry wanted to say but the disapproving glare from Hermione snuffed it out before he could open his mouth. Honestly, a bit of Snape bashing would do him good, get a bit of righteous anger going before facing the person he had been plagued by all bloody day.

Harry took his usual seat in the back, bent on drawing the least amount of attention as was possible. Ron was seconds away from connecting bum-to-stool when the Potions Master swept into the room, booming out a curt, "Assigned seats today. Up. _Move_!"

Harry tried to wrangle in a groan as Snape shot a pointed glare in his direction. So much for laying low. Ron gave his back a pat and smiled sympathetically before moving over to sit besides Theodore Nott. Harry slouched in his seat, not bothering to hide his contempt for the Professor as Draco Malfoy elegantly slipped onto the stool besides him.

"Potter," The blonde muttered as he unpacked his things.

"Malfoy," Harry answered, taking out his quill.

The two enemies had come to a cease-fire of sorts. With Malfoy Senior being sentenced to life in Azkaban after Harry had done away with Voldemort in a brutal, bloody battle he'd rather not remember, the young blonde had had no further need to pretend just for the sake of saving face. So, with no real reason to resent eachother other than a few years of childish bullying, the two had come to terms with one another and silently agreed to a truce. Harry wouldn't consider Malfoy a FRIEND, but not an enemy by any means. More so a...friendly rival. Whatever that was.

"Might want to look a bit more ruffled, Potter, or Snape will think you LIKE being partnered with me." Malfoy commented casually, smoothing down his roll of parchment for note taking.

Harry rumpled his already messy hair (since it annoyed Malfoy to no end) and cooed," But I DO so love being your partner, Malfie baby."

The Slytherin rolled his stormy grey eyes," Of course you do. Cause your potion always comes out _properly_ with me correcting your every step. I simply said you shouldn't LOOK it."

Harry sighed dramatically and lazily dipped his quill into his inkwell." If I must." A small smirk quirked his lips and out of the corner of his eye, he caught Malfoy's lips twitch as well.

With the banter died down now in favor of taking notes, Harry found himself slipping into musings of a dangerous kind. His green eyes couldn't help but avidly watch as Snape paced back and forth across the classroom like a black panther in folds of billowing fabric. He hadn't noticed before, but Snape liked to move in a calculated manner. No movement was unnecessary or spontaneous. Those long pale fingers steepled when he talked, thin pink lips formed every potion ingredient perfectly, long raven hair swung gently when he pivoted.  
It was rather hypnotizing watching the Potions Professor as he lectured. All the little things he didn't take into account before now changed the dream in his mind.

Snape probably wouldn't whimper. He seemed more the type to grunt. Or hiss... Yes, hiss. Grunting would be too primitive and show weakness, a sort of submission, whereas hissing could be used as a sign of aggression. So he could be taken and yet still be the aggressor. Yes. THAT would suit Severus--

"MR. POTTER!"

Harry jolted from his reverie and clear off his seat. Looking around in confusion, the muffled snickers of his classmates alerted him that he was probably in a world of trouble. Lifting his eyes hesitantly from his lap, he couldn't help but shudder as they met with smoldering coal.

"I apologize that my class isn't riveting Mr. Potter, but I advise you to pay closer attention."

Harry frowned, his wicked mind wishing it knew what Snape thought of leather collars."Huh?"

Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say. Oh, no, he KNEW it was the wrong thing to say since Snape's lips thinned and a little bit of color left his face. "After class, Mr. Potter."

Was it so wrong to be lost right now?" After class, sir?"

"YES you infernal boy! After class! I want to see you AFTER CLASS. Do you need Mr. Malfoy to repeat it just incase you missed it again?" Snape snarled.

Harry couldn't resist narrowing his eyes, but DID manage to bite back whatever scathing remark he itched to reply with." That won't be necessary. After class, Professor."

The bell came soon enough and Harry was dreading the inevitable belittling lecture he had in store. Getting a half sympathetic, half amused smirk from Malfoy, Harry gathered his things and sat back, waiting while Snape took his time in organizing various things on his desk.  
Ten minutes had passed without so much as a word between them. Harry's stomach was starting to grumble with hunger, seeing as he hadn't eaten much at breakfast or lunch. Honestly, was it really necessary to just sit there and be--

"Not holding you up, am I Potter?"

Harry resisted the urge to growl and instead settled for a glare. "Of course not Professor."

The raven-haired man dropped his quill into its stand before slowly stalking his way to Harry's seat. And that was it for him.

"I've taken a look at your marks this quarter and its come to my attention that you've failed almost every one of my tests. Now, as much as it pains me to say this, the Headmaster wishes me to find you a suitable tutor to raise your marks and I have no choice but to oblige, SO--"

He tried to listen, he honestly did, but those lips were so entrancing. Forming soft O's and widening to permit larger pronunciations and then the brief flicker of tongue as he said his th's. It was all too much.

_"Like that?" Leaning forward, he purred at the black-haired man, watching as his blindfolded head rolled back_.

"POTTER!"

Harry blinked and realized that yes, he was still in the dungeons, but no, Severus Snape was not chained to the ceiling but instead glowering down at him menacingly. Bollocks.

"Potter, have you heard a WORD I said?"

Choosing not to reply was probably the best option, since his silence was answer enough.

Snape growled, which did nothing to better Harry's disturbing situation, and scowled." I take it upon myself to offer charity because of your complete lack of competence and get it spit back in my face. Now get out of my sight before I fail you all together!"

Harry stammered an apology; for what, he didn't really know. He'd convinced himself it was for not listening and therefore botching his chances of passing Potions with something close to Acceptable. But some part of him wondered if perhaps it was for all the sinful images he'd been having of the man. Either way, Snape refused to listen to another word and ordered him out of his classroom with a bark and a glare.

Harry trudged to the Gryffindor Tower, contemplating skipping dinner and hiding in his bed for the rest of his life. Surely dying of starvation was less painful than facing the Great Hall and its inhabitants after that embarrassing scene in the Potions classroom. He was only lucky he was getting skilled in Occulmency or else Snape would've had much more to yell at him for.  
Alas his clever ( however masochistic) plot was foiled as a certain redhead headed him off at the first floor landing.

"Hey mate. So what'd he say?" Ron queried, hand coming to a rest on Harry's arm.

"Eh. Usual, I guess." Harry answered, allowing himself to be redirected towards the Great Hall by an arm slung round his shoulders.

"You guess? " Ron asked, looking confused.

A wry smile couldn't help but find its way on his lips as they stepped into the Great Hall, heading towards their house table." Well. You could say... I didn't exactly _LISTEN_..."

Ron sat down next to him, mouth agape for a few seconds before he let loose a series of loud guffaws. Hermione frowned in both curious amusement and disapproval.

"Listen to what, Harry?"

He smiled, plucking a pear from the copper bowl. "Snape's lecture."

Hermione rose her perfect brown eyebrows as Ron's laughter started anew. "Oh, Harry..." She tried to admonish, but the smile on her lips wasn't hard to miss. " I suppose he was right miffed at that."

Harry was finding it hard to keep a straight face, what with Ron doubling over in laughter besides him, his shaggy red hair swaying as he tried to coral his mirth. " I suppose. Didn't catch much between the shouting and the barking."

"He-he-he BARKED!" Ron choked, hunching over to bury his head in his arms.

"Ron, honestly." Hermione chided, giving his head a half-hearted whap. It only served to set the boy off again."Harry, really, you shouldn't be so brash. Professor Snape DOES control your grade."

Harry rubbed the redhead's back, hoping he didn't end up dying of asphyxiation. "I'm already failing Potions, so I don't see the point in being pleasant."

"Its not about pleasantries, Harry. Its essential to your schooling and you need it in order to be eligible for Auror training." Hermione put in, throwing concerned looks at Ron every once in awhile. Apparently even _she _was growing worried over his gasps and hissing sniggers.

"Yes yes," Harry said, waving off her comment. " I'm going to talk to McGonagal about it and see what she says. If Snape was mental enough to offer me a second chance, I suppose he'd be willing to let it stand with some prodding from a faculty member."

The bushy-haired girl sighed and sat back, looking unhappily defeated." Well, I'm pleased to hear you've thought this over for once."

Harry smiled at her, patting Ron's back as the rosy-cheeked boy finally rose from his fit to sigh happily. " Oh 'Mione, you know a thought OCCASIONALY crosses my head."

"It just gets lost in the tangle of hair," Ron commented off handedly and it set the three off all over again.

Some time after the trio had calmed down, Harry decided to get things over with and approach his Head of House now before he lost his will to give a flying fuck about Potions. Tucking another pear into his pocket, he patted Ron's thick hair fondly as he and Hermione began arguing about which was more important to get funding for: the Restricted Section or the Quidditch pitch. Harry smiled and sighed, quickly slipping away to avoid getting dragged into it. For as much as he loved his best friends, he couldn't deal with their relentless bickering sometimes. Atleast now he didn't chalk it up to sexual tension, seeing as Ron liked busty blondes like Luna and so did Hermione. (snigger) . They just enjoyed arguing. It was probably the same thing he and Malfoy had, only less intelligent.

Harry made his way up the aisle and leaned on the edge of the head table, smiling politely while McGonagal finished chewing her pot roast.

"Mr. Potter. To what do I owe this honor?" She asked agreeably, setting down her fork and knife.

Harry shifted forward, placing his hands on the tabletop to support his precarious tilt." Well, I was hoping to discuss something with you..."

A smile lifted a corner of the old woman's lips as she sat back, folding her hands infront of her." And would it happen to involve a rather vexed Potions Master and a hearing deficiency?"

Harry grimaced." Heard already, I take it?"

Again, her lips twitched." Oh, I'm sure the portraits on the eighth floor heard, Mr. Potter."

Sighing, he leaned on one hip, weighing his options." So you don't think you would be able to talk him into giving me another chance at that tutoring?"

McGonagal watched him, her eyes flashing as her mind whizzed through thoughts. "Hmm. Well, I suppose I could. However," Harry's hopeful smile fell," I believe securing a tutor on your own and making sure to earn high marks would be a better way of proving you deserve that second chance."

His smile returned.

"I do believe Mr. Malfoy has the highest ranking in Potions. If I'm not mistaken, he has free periods every Monday, Thursday and Friday after lunch. " McGonagal commented, picking up her utensils again.

Harry grinned and was about to praise his Head of House for her unfaltering intelligence (and perhaps question how it was she knew he and Malfoy were on friendly enough terms to not get hexed at a tutoring request) when a slam to his left distracted him and a fiery coal glare bore through his skull.

The way that hair draped delicately against his pale cheeks, the way his unblemished neck slid down to disappear in those tight black robes, the way his lips were stained deep red from the wine he had probably drunk, the way his fingers gripped that poor fork passionately, the way...

_Biting down on a bleeding lip and digging his fingers into the shackles round his wrists, the man seemed to be willing himself not to scream as he hung helplessly from the ceiling."Sod off, Potter." _

"Tsk tsk. Such language, Sevy. I'll just have to teach you a lesson..."

"NNNG!"

"Yessss..."

"POTTER!"

Harry started and stumbled back from the table, as if burned. McGonagal gave him a concerned look as he backed away. Before he turned to flea, he caught a contemplative frown forming on Snape's brow, spurring him to run faster.

- - - - - - - - - -

Collapsing face first into the mound of soft pillows on his four-poster, Harry sighed and debated whether death by throwing one's self out of a tower window would really be all that painful. Because, he gathered, that the rate at which one would hit the ground, would result in instant death.

Pretty morbid thoughts for the wizarding world's shiny Savior. Harry sighed into his pillow, closing heavy lids over stinging green eyes.

It would've been bliss to have escaped his horrible day by a few hours of dreamless sleep, but unfortunately, he forgot to take that damn potion. Tossing and turning didn't prove to be much help in finding a comfortable spot to snuggle into. All the movement only further irritated his already irritated body, particularly a seldom appreciated section between navel and thigh.  
Wasn't HIS fault he was Harry I-save-the-bloody-world-and-my-owl-all-before-breakfast Potter. Like he'd had much time to deal with the whole puberty/growing up thing. Thank Merlin for Ron. Though the whole birds and the bees talk was very distressing, Ron had been gracious and bestowed upon him knowledge of the glorious art of self-gratification.  
Though it puzzled Harry occasionally ( as well as Ron and Hermione) why he didn't just find a nice bird and do things the old fashioned way, he'd grown content with a good wank along with his morning shower.

But apparently he hadn't been all that content afterall. But. No. Wait. He WAS content damn it. Or...was he...? NO! He WAS!...maybe...yes...no...oh hell. This whole puberty thing was a pain. Perhaps another talk with Ron would clear things up. That it was his starving libido that caused that, er, _peculiar_ dream. Honestly, it was beginning to take a huge tole on his sanity. Now that he had time to think about it, before that dream he'd never noticed the silky pallor of Snape's skin contrasting with his black robes or the soft-looking white-gold hair that curled over the edge of Malfoy's collar or the warm strength behind Ron's frequent touches.

Harry shivered, flopping onto his stomach once more. He was bloody cracked, that's all there was to it.

Absorbed into his self-incriminating thoughts for the remainder of the evening, Harry only barely registered when his dorm mates filed in an hour later or when Ron deposited himself besides Harry on his bed.

"What's wrong, mate? You left right after talking to McGonagal. Something happen?"

Harry buried his heated cheeks into his pillow, ashamed at the thoughts he'd been entertaining only moments before. He was sure, however good a mate Ron was, that the redhead wouldn't appreciate his person being mentally undressed. " Would it look bad if I smothered myself with a pillow?"

Ron was quiet for a moment as he shifted on the bed before speaking up." Well...I'm not sure. I mean, you survived death threats seven years in a row, overthrew the Minister, killed the Dark Lord, only to be done in by...bedding."

Harry could hear the smirk in his best friend's voice, making him raise his head to look at him. Sure enough, there was the smirk and Harry felt all the more foolish for being so ridiculous." True enough. Sirius would be downright shamed by that death certificate. He'd atleast want it to be someone else's bedding. Like Malfoy's."

Ron arched his brow, his smile widening. "Malfoy, Harry?" Before he could retort with an 'oh, I was just kidding!', the redhead started to snigger." Been entertaining fantasies about the Ferret's bed, have we?"

Harry glowered, sitting up and shoving the boy right off his bed.

Ron laughed as he winced, remaining sprawled out on the floor." Oh Malfoy! Your bed is so big and GREEN! PLEASE! Smother me with your big, green, ferrety love-pillow!"

Harry scowled, trying his hardest not to give into the smile itching at his lips." If that high pitched coo was supposed to be a mock of my voice, you have another thing coming Weasley."

The redhead laughed, earning himself a whack in the face from Harry's pillow. " Oh Drakie-pooh, your love pillow is just so BIG! It won't fit!"

"That's it!" Harry exclaimed, throwing himself down onto Ron and pummeling him with his pillow.

Ron gasped and shrieked with laughter, imploring the other three Gryffindor boys to save him. Realizing there was no saving to be had, the redhead finally collapsed back, tongue flopped out in a ruse of death. Harry nodded and sat back on the boy's stomach while the others returned to their nighttime routine with matching grins.

"Ron?"

"Hmm?" The redheaded corpse grunted.

Struggling to find the words to voice his various questions, Harry paused, chewing on his lip. Ron opened his blue eyes, curious at Harry's silence.

"What is it?"

"What...no...Do...ugh...I don't know how to phrase it." Harry mumbled, begging his cheeks not to go red and risk giving himself away.

Ron laid back comfortably, hands reaching up to pat his friend's thighs reassuringly. " Just say it then."

Harry raked his hair back, looking up at the ceiling instead of the probing blue eyes beneath him." If a chap has a, uhm, _off-color_ dream about someone they normally wouldn't even consider in that way, does it mean they truly have feelings for that person or can it be something else?"

Ron's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the brunette's question without the necessary details." Well, I'd say no, it can be something else...Harry, did you have a sex dream about someone?"

Harry's vivid red cheeks were answer enough.

Ron grinned and sat up on his elbows." You randy dog, you. Who was it?"

Looking pained, Harry rubbed the back of his neck." If I said McGonagal, would you believe me?"

Ron's grin faltered a bit, if only because he snorted." Not really."

"Why?"

"She doesn't really seem your type." Ron said matter-of-factly.

"Why?" Harry parroted, oddly perplexed.

"Do I really need to answer that with various crude and colorful comments or are you going to tell me who your dream was really about?" Ron countered easily.

Harry looked down, absently noting that he was still straddling Ron. "What if I said it was you."

Ron looked bewildered at first before his face sobered a bit as he pushed himself to sit up." Is the person that bad, Harry?"

The boy nodded, resting his forehead against his best friend's shoulder. A hand came up to rub his back, making him sink forward into Ron's chest.

Some might've considered Harry and Ron's friendship a bit too physical to be entirely platonic, but seeing as Harry had absolutely zero physical contact growing up whereas Ron had loads, the two had simply tried to compensate. Hugs and linking arms and playing with hands, hair, hems and arms round waists and something like this was a common occurrence for the boys. No one had to understand except for the two of them, and for that, Harry was grateful. Especially at a moment like this when the last thing he needed was more questions with answers he didn't know.

"I'm so confused, Ron...This dream really buggered my head."

"Is that why you've been acting so twitchy today?"

Harry smiled weakly and nodded, looping his arms loosely round Ron's back.

"Well then its obvious that it wasn't just any ordinary dream or else you would've written it off as one."

What Ron said made sense, which only served to confuse him even more. Slipping off the boy's lap, Harry stood and scratched his head. "Thanks Ron, but you should get to bed."

"Got a lot of thinking to do?" Ron said as he picked himself up.

Harry sighed, pulling a black sweater over his uniform shirt."You have no idea."

Ron smiled at him reassuringly and patted his friend's head."Goodluck, Harry. And don't be out too late, you'll catch a cold or a Filch."

Harry smiled and strode from the room, slipping out of the portrait hole soundlessly. It took only minutes before he was lost in thought, wandering some corridor on the fourth floor. His lip thoroughly worried between his teeth, he lost himself to the desire of memory.

_Severus jerked forward, his long raven hair swaying against his long neck and broad shoulders, limp with sweat. Running skilled fingers down damp, pale flesh, Harry coaxed reluctant groans and pained gasps from an overused throat. Urging the sex toy on, he watched intently as the older man's sleek body spasmed back and forth, his hauntingly beautiful face twisted in agonizing pleasure._

Why was he thinking such things? Honestly. It wasn't like he was starved for attention. He could get it anywhere, from anybody, some had even offered. So then why...?

_Long, callused fingers reached down to slide along the man's bobbing sex, slowly luring him closer to oblivion._

Why?

_His hisses became screams and soon the room was overwhelmed by sound._

**Why**?

_Wet slapping, muffled sobbing and the ever increasing scrape of metal on stone_.

WHY Severus Snape?

_"Don't!"  
_  
It wasn't as if he'd ever looked at the man in a less than loathing way before.

"_Please!"_

He hated the man. Despised him, even. He was nothing but sharp edges and dark corners and sneering lips and smoldering eyes and graspable hair and sinewy limbs and arousing strength and--

"_STOP!"_

Harry had to reach out and grab onto the wall for fear of crumbling to the ground at the onslaught of sensations pelting him just then. His knees felt weak and his skin had broke out in a cold sweat. His heart thudded like crazy in his chest as he shivered in the cool night air. He had to get back to the dorm and FAST. There was no way he was going to wander around with the mightiest erection he'd ever had in his entire life.  
Just as he pushed himself off the wall and turned the corner, he slammed right into someone and would've very likely ended up sprawled on the floor if it hadn't been for the pair of strong hands to grasp him just then.

Looking up, Harry had rationed things just couldn't get any worse, but then remembered he was Harry Potter and things could ALWAYS get worse when it involved him. And it did, it seemed.

Snape glared down at him, their noses inches apart. "Potter, what are you doing out of bed?"

"I..I was just uh..." Harry stammered for words, simultaneously trying to arch his hips away from his professor's.

"Meandering about, like the King you take yourself to be." Snape supplied.

"No! I was visiting Hagrid and lost track of the time." Harry corrected (er, LIED).

Snape looked skeptical and leaned in closer, his breath puffing softly across Harry's face. " Don't think because you saved the world that it'll get you what you want. Most people WORK for it."

"I work for what I want," Harry mumbled weakly, trying his best not to shutter with pleasure at the close proximity of the man or the faint scent of wine and custard and ash.

"Do you now." Snape said, an almost taunting lilt to his voice. And just when Harry was about to retort (with what, he hadn't worked out yet), the older man decided to release Harry's arms, causing him to stumble forward on gelatin knees. Unfortunately, he hadn't quite yet managed to calm himself and, well...yeah, that was Snape smirking evilly and Harry's life coming to an official end.

"I stand corrected."

Harry felt the heat overwhelm his face and he screamed for his body to do what he told it.

"But I dare say Potter, I doubt that line will work on command in the future. Something tactful would be advisable."

Harry twitched then fled, leaving a smirking Potions Master laughing quietly in the hallway.

- - - - - - - - - -

The following week, Snape made it his mission in life to torment Harry for being aroused that night. The close contact and constant stream of whispered innuendos were working against Harry and he steadily became more obsessed. The wet-dreams grew more frequent, vivid and darker in their detail.One night he had Snape strapped down to a bed with leather strips, a gag in his mouth, the next night Snape was on his knees, his arms tied behind his back and the gag making a second appearance. He was slowly cultivating a dark desire to see that hateful mouth shut up, so he'd create different scenarios during class on how he could achieve silence. Perhaps a gag would be sufficient, other times a sound snog or a finger up the bum, maybe even using his own mouth on a certain piece of anatomy would win him peace.  
As a result of all these thoughts and waking up one too many times with wet sheets and soiled boxers, Harry slept less and avoided meals so he didn't have to face the Potions Master or his own feelings. It was much easier to both lust and loathe the man if he didn't have to see him outside of Potions. Two hours every other day was more than enough to fire Harry's sick fantasies.

Unfortunately, Fate had a way of telling Harry that he was her bitch. And the next Monday was a fine example.

The DADA professor was hospitalized after a bad studying session with Neville, so Dumbledore saw fit to assign Snape the man's classes. Like dealing with the surly man three days a week wasn't enough, now Harry had him more than twice as much. It wasn't fair, it REALLY wasn't.

"Since Professor Bloom failed to leave a lesson plan in her rush to stand in the way of one of Longbottom's spells, I'll administer a practical exam to determine what you have learned so far." Snape said as he swept slowly across the front of the classroom.

Harry knew he was buggered. Ron gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before a hulking figure shadowed over their desk and harry couldn't help but cringe.

"Mr. Potter, how about we start with you? You ARE the star pupil, afterall." Snape purred, his voice dripping with disdain.

Harry gathered whatever Gryffindor nerve he had in his reserves and followed the pallid man to the center of the room where the desks had been pushed aside for the exam. Taking a deep breath, he would've liked to of thought himself prepared, but alas, a week without sleep or food was just too much on his already exhausted body. Snape's sudden hex sent him flying backwards into a somersault before tumbling to a halt beneath a knocked over desk, parchment and ink spilling down ontop of him.

Ron and Hermione scurried to his side amidst the class' ill-concealed sniggers. To be caught of guard, in his BEST subject, infront of all his peers, by the one man he hated and lusted more than anything at the moment. Harry only spared them a fleeting glance before he tore from the room, too tired and humiliated to care if they saw his tears of frustration.

No one would see him for hours.

- - - - - - - - - -

Night banked cold and clear. After Harry had a shower to clean off the ink, he hid himself in the Room of Requirement, losing himself in a crackling fire and his photo album. His peace was short-lived, of course. Never leave a map telling everyone's whereabouts under your mattress, especially if a certain redhead knows where to look.  
So, in order to avoid an interrogation as to what exactly happened to him, Harry escaped his friends and snuck out of the castle. Certain no one would go looking for him outside in the freezing December air, Harry trekked quietly along the path leading to the Dark Forest. Slipping soundlessly through a break in the branches, he wandered slowly along a vague path made up of tiny white pebbles and flattened foliage.

The utter silence of the forest did wonders to his frayed nerves. Only the occasional hoot of a far-off owl or the howl of a wolf interrupted his precious minutes of peace. Unfortunately, forcing one's brain to NOT think about something it's been thinking about for weeks now is damn near impossible, even for Harry Potter.

It doesn't make any sense why he'd be so attracted to Snape. Ok, sure, so the man has that dark allure about him, but really, he has the personality of a wet mop. What would they even talk about?

_Wait. Why would I even want to TALK to him?_ Harry frowned, folding his arms across his chest as a chilly breeze floated past his cheeks. It was supposed to be just physical. A libido gone awry. Teenage hormones.

But somewhere buried beneath the comforting lies Harry told himself, lay the little bit of truth he had been ignoring this entire time. Of course it didn't make sense why he would be attracted to Snape, if he didn't factor EVERYTHING in.

Licking chapped lips, Harry muttered quietly into the still air. "I'm gay."

Well, that wasn't TOO horrible, really. Perhaps a bit strange, but he was sure he could get used to it. It just felt..._right_ somehow. Bloody hell, was Hermione going to have a fit when Ron found out he had been right. There would be no living with the arrogant prat.

"It wasn't just a dream, because I couldn't forget it."

Not bad either. Pretty obvious, really, but Harry didn't take himself for being one to readily accept strange notions concerning matters of the heart. But now for the REAL test.

"Maybe...I don't hate Severus Snape. Maybe...maybe I--"

But he never got a chance to voice what he MAYBE'd. The last thing Harry remembered was ducking beneath some low hanging branches, and the next was flying through the air and landing in a heap on some hard dirt.

Too numb with shock to react quick enough, Harry was then grasped round his body and lifted straight into the air. Looking up in horror, he was met face-to-face with a VERY unhappy Grawp. The giant looked frantic and mad with fear. A scared giant is not a friendly giant.

Waving his free arm frantically, Harry tried to get the giant's attention, forcing a strained smile onto his face." Grawp! Its me! Its Harry! ITS HARRY!"

But the creature was too far gone to listen and his fist reflexively curled tighter round Harry's body. "NOO! BAD WOLFIE! BAD BAD BAD!"

"Grawp! PLEASE! _AAGGH_! ITS HARRY!" He screamed, wriggling and struggling with no success. His limbs were growing heavy and didn't respond to his panicked urges anymore. His vision was starting to blur.

"WOLFIE BIT GRAWP! WOLFIE MEAN! WOLFIE PAY!"

His body shutting down as oxygen ceased to enter his crushed lungs, Harry begrudgingly awaited sweet oblivion and absently wondered if Sirius would be satisfied with 'Death by Raged Giant'.

A flash of light and he was freefalling over 8 feet to the hard ground. Though his body screamed in pain, first things first. Greedily gulping in the crisp, clean air, Harry struggled onto all fours and weakly crawled as far as his limbs would permit under the circumstances.  
Curling up against a tree, he gasped and battled to fight off unconsciousness. His war ending, with him the victor, Harry looked up, finally having the sense of mind to wonder just what the HELL happened.

To his shock, he discovered his savior not to be Ron or Hermione or even Dumbledore, but the last person on Earth he expected (or wanted) to see in the middle of the Dark Forest; Severus Snape. He was sure his jaw must've hit the ground, cause there was just no hiding his bewilderment.

Snape smirked and turned to him, Grawp subdued and sleeping under a powerful stunning spell.

The adrenaline from his (what was he up to now? Eighth? Ninth? ) recent death threat, Harry sagged back on his legs, a sudden sever bout of exhaustion taking over him. He felt he should be ashamed, being a Gryffindor and all, he should very well be capable of saving himself. But with the past two weeks weighing down on his shoulders, Snape's irritating smirk, screams of pleasure echoing in his had, Harry just didn't have the strength to act the proud hero. Instead, he sank back against the tree, praying that his long bangs would hide the tears welling in his eyes.

Snape marched over and hauled him up by the forearms, jerking Harry from his broken state as he was almost hoisted into the man's arms like some _girl_ with a twisted ankle.

"Geroff!" Harry barked, wrenching himself free.

"What's the matter, Potter? "Snape simpered, an annoying look of satisfaction on his face." Ashamed you were saved by a Slytherin? I'm sure your ego isn't very happy."

"...shut up." Harry warbled grumpily.

"Ooh, my my, aren't we a bit testy when being the damsel instead of the shining knight."

" I said..." Harry trailed off, having caught sight of his Professor and the arousing state of his hair.

"You said what? Now Potter, someone in your position shouldn't be mouthing off to their savior. Especially considering where you are. Why, in your condition, you could get "lost" in these woods if left on your own, attacked and eaten by the numerous beasts just itching to sink their teeth into something fresh and naive."

With that, Harry's stupor snapped. "Sod off!"

Sneering menacingly, Snape stared down at him, morbid amusement glinting in his coal eyes."Eloquent as always, Potter. I'm sure your father would've been proud."

Having had enough, his emotional sanity snapping in the wake of his mental, Harry shoved the man from his person and snarled, " What the bloody hell did I ever do to deserve this! I didn't do ANYTHING!"

Snape quickly righted himself and looked less than amused.

"YOU! You're the bloody bane of...of...of EVERYTHING! Why can't you just Leave. Me. ALONE!" Harry shrieked, his voice reaching heights of volume he didn't think his lithe body was capable of.

The Potions Master looked mildly startled by the ferocity with which Harry was shouting, but the teen was too far gone to care anymore. He'd had **enough**. The lies and the secrets and the dreams and the wanting and the truth hidden behind it all...He'd had enough.

"I didn't want this, you hear me! I never did! It just happened and now I can't fucking stop it and I HATE IT! I hate thinking about it and dreaming about it and having every bloody second of my day overwhelmed by it and all you do is make it **worse**! " Harry seethed, unaware of the tears pooling in his eyes. " I wanted something _soft_ ! Something REAL! Something I didn't feel ashamed about! But no! It had to be YOU!"

By now, Severus Snape was more than a little rattled, even Harry could tell. But did he care? Not particularly. The cruel git had it coming. Harry could care less if the man had a heart attack right now, shocked as he was by the outburst.

As it was, the man was silent as Harry shook with ill-contained fury and agony. "It's not fair...why'd it have to be YOU!"

A dark smile slowly scrawled itself across the older man's face and Harry felt his insides run cold. " Always knew you were a pouf, Potter. What WOULD your father think?"

If he was angry before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. An irrational rage surged through him and he found himself slamming the dark-haired man against the nearest tree and snarling in his face. A flicker of fear flashed just long enough for Harry to enjoy it and he knew he had the advantage. "Why not stop thinking about the past and focus on the present where I'm about to rip you to shreds."

Snape somehow managed to sneer, though his hands trembled from where they hung limply at his sides. "You don't have the nerve. You're just a pathetic little Gryffindor with a PATHETIC little _crush_."

Something in Harry shattered at the word 'crush'. And everything fell into place.

Balling Snape's scarf and cloak in his fist, Harry shoved him back harder into the trunk and crashed their lips together. It was an angry, messy, powerful kiss that caused his knees to buckle and his mind to spin. He claimed that mouth, forcing his way in and tasting every inch he could reach. Mint and chamomile. Rage and darkness. Intelligence and age. And just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Harry drew away, panting gruffly into the chilly December air. Snape's obsidian eyes shimmered in the little light the moon cast and sent a shiver up Harry's spine. At first, he thought the man was going to hex him, or perhaps faint from disgust, but to his utter dismay, he did something worse. Snape merely sneered.

"Pitiful."

His chest aching for some reason and tears welling in devastated jade eyes, Harry spun on his heel and ran.

It would've been a marvelous ending to a long and painful journey, but it seemed there were things even Harry Potter, with all his brushes with death and miraculous strokes of luck, couldn't have foreseen.

His arm was grabbed and his slender body hauled backwards. Stumbling, he was caught by a pair of strong arms and turned around. Harry stared shocked up into glinting black eyes as long, cool fingers slipped round his throat. He could feel wisps of raven hair brushing against his forehead and nose in the night breeze as the man took a step in closer.

His breath caught in his throat for the few agonizing minutes of silence. He didn't dare move, those strong fingers digging gently into his cold skin. Then a snowflake danced down between them and Harry exhaled. Soon, a flurry was fluttering upon them, leaving white cool kisses on his burning cheeks.

"Pitiful." Snape muttered again, though with a curious fondness to his tone this time. Harry was about to open his mouth to retort when the older man's thumb pushed against his lips, effectively silencing him. "Pitiful that with all that Gryffindor courage, you couldn't just come right out and say you were inlove with me."

Harry rose his stunned green eyes to stare at the taller man, dumbfounded and struggling for words. But Snape took care of that as well.

Leaning down, he tipped Harry's head back and claimed his lips. It wasn't a bruising, violent kiss like before. This one had meaning, whispered words and...peace. The aching in his chest stopped, his mind stopped spinning out of control, but his body continued to tremble.

Severus pulled back and wrapped Harry up in his cloak, "Silly boy. Must I do everything?"

If it had been anyone else to say it, Harry would've been irate and stormed off. But since it was Severus, he merely buried his head into the warm crook where neck met soft scarf and breathed a sigh of relief.

All things considered-- the morbid dreams, the torment, the long sleepless nights, the weakening ache for something MORE-- Harry felt it was all worth it. As Severus led them through the gently falling snow back into the warmth of the castle, his arm draped protectively round his shoulders and the man's cloak wrapped round them both, Harry decided that this reality turned out to be MUCH better than the dream.

And the world hadn't come to an end afterall.


End file.
